


Break it to Make it

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, PWP, Podfic Welcome, Some sort of future fic, Vague, break ups, gentle angst, open-ended, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: We all know how the old quote goes,"of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world..."Ryan and Shane, in a bar.





	Break it to Make it

**Author's Note:**

> the first couple lines of dialogue hit me and wouldn't leave me along, so i had to write this weird, vague, ambiguous thing. 
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing.
> 
> enjoy!

“Well _this_ is awkward.”

Shane takes a long sip of his whiskey before saying, “Yeah, no shit.”

Ryan slides onto the barstool all the same. He catches the bartender’s attention. “Rum and coke,” he says under the din of the bar. Then, he turns back to Shane, who’s resolutely not looking at him.

Shane drinks his whiskey and stares off into space; his eyes aren’t glazed and tension radiates from his body.

“How have you been?” Ryan asks, for lack of anything else to say. He pays for his drink and sucks down half in the time it takes Shane to decide to answer him.

“Fine. Busy.” Shane’s reply is curt, but he follows it up with, “You?”

Ryan ‘ah’s quietly. “Can’t complain.”

Shane hums. He sounds distracted. Ryan bristles at the noise and can feel himself flushing pink in the cheeks with embarrassment. Shane’s always been good at riling him up, for better or worse. They haven’t seen each other in upwards of three years but there’s a certain comfort in knowing things never change. All the same, Ryan would’ve rather this night not have happened at all. Screw Steven’s friend-of-a-friend for trying to set Ryan up on a blind date.

Shane knocks back the rest of his drink and waves down the bartender for another.

Ryan _should_ just take his drink and sit somewhere else. Maybe he could find someone to take home, someone who’s _not_ his ex-boyfriend. Ryan angrily sucks down his rum and coke until it burns, until his eyes are watering.

“Listen.” Shane’s voice is a familiar rasp. The sound of a little too much whiskey makes his voice deeper.

Ryan wants to retort with something witty and sharp, but instead he just waits.

“Listen,” Shane says again. He’s looking down at the sticky bar top like it holds all the answers to the universe. “I never said I was sorry.”

Whatever Ryan was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. Ryan sets down his nearly empty drink. “What?”

Shane huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “I never said I was sorry, for, for what happened.”

Ryan’s mouth is dry. “Oh.” His eyes are burning but it’s not from the liquor this time. A lump forms in his throat and he swallows around emotions he hasn’t had to handle for years now. “Well, uh.”

“You don’t have to forgive me, that’s not what I’m expecting.” Shane drums his fingers on the edge of his glass. “I just wanted to say it, and that I’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

Ryan looks down at his own cup. He lifts it, but before the mixture hits his lips he sets it aside. He looks at Shane’s drink, at Shane’s long fingers wrapped around the smudged glass, and then at Shane’s throat as he tips his head back to swallow what’s left of his whiskey. Shane finally, _finally_ looks at him head on, with a bitter twist to his lips and eyes full of heat and sadness and something that looks a little like regret. But Ryan’s no mind reader.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Ryan asks in a rush.

Shane’s eyes spark, or maybe it’s just the weird lighting in the bar. “Yeah,” he breathes back.

 

 

Ryan groans as his back hits his apartment door. He can barely get his keys out of his jacket pocket with Shane pressed all along his front, kissing him like he’s trying to devour Ryan. Shane’s worked a leg between Ryan’s thighs and is grinding it up against Ryan’s erection, but it’s not enough.

Ryan breaks out of the kiss and puts a firm hand on Shane’s chest. “Let’s get inside,” he says, and _Christ_ , his voice is wrecked. Just from some kissing. How fucking embarrassing. Ryan turns around quickly and fumbles with the keys to get his door open.

Shane doesn’t go far; he molds himself to Ryan’s back, takes him by the hips and presses his own erection against Ryan’s ass.

Ryan finally gets the door open and they go stumbling into his apartment. Shane’s hands immediately slide and start tugging at Ryan’s shirt. Ryan writhes and twists until it’s over his head and then tossed aside. Before Ryan can try and do the same to Shane, he’s being shoved toward the couch. Ryan trips over his own feet and lands in a sprawl on the middle couch cushion.

He looks up at Shane, who drops to his knees between Ryan’s spread legs. He rubs his hands over Ryan’s knees then slides his hands up to the button and zipper, dragging it down. He works Ryan’s cock from the slit in his boxers and lets his breathing ghost over Ryan’s skin.

“Shane—?”

Shane just winks at him, infuriatingly familiar, and wraps his lips around the tip of Ryan’s cock. Ryan groans and tips his head back as wet heat envelops him. He can barely stand to look at Shane as he sinks down onto Ryan’s dick. He holds Ryan’s thighs apart, his touch enormous and warm and grounding in contrast to the lewd slickness of his mouth.

“Shane,” Ryan tries to say again, only succeeding in moaning. He clenches one hand against the couch cushion and runs the other through his own hair, scraping his nails along his scalp to ground him. “Fuck.”

Shane hums around him and the vibrations make his toes curl. Slowly, Shane pulls off his cock and the sting of cool air to his heated skin is dizzying. “You don’t have to be gentle,” he says to Ryan. He reaches for Ryan’s hand on the cushion and brings it to his hair. “I won’t break.”

Ryan grips Shane’s hair tight and yanks him closer to his dick. Shane laughs but goes; he obediently slips his lips over the tip then down the shaft. Ryan shudders and lets himself buck into Shane’s mouth. Shane moans as Ryan thrusts in deep and it spurs him to keep going. It’s like the best kind of feedback loop: Shane moans and Ryan’s hips jerk, pushing him deeper and making Shane moan again, and again, and _again_.

Shane sneaks a hand down to cup Ryan’s balls and it tips Ryan over the edge. He barely has time to say, “shit, _Shane_ , coming,” before he’s spilling deep down Shane’s throat.

Shane doesn’t even cough. He swallows and Ryan shivers, riding out the waves of his orgasm. Ryan shoves weakly at Shane’s head when it gets to be too much and groans softly at the sight of Shane, lips red and spit-slick, as he pulls back.

“Jesus, Shane, get up here.” Ryan shifts his grip from Shane’s hair to his shoulder and yanks. Shane scrambles into his lap, insanely long legs bracketing Ryan’s hips, and all at once it’s all so overwhelming. The scent of Shane, the sound of him, the feel of him in his lap again after all these years.

Ryan reaches around and cups Shane ass and tugs him closer. “Fuck,” he hisses as Shane’s chinos—always chinos, fucking chinos—rub over Ryan’s sensitive cock.

Shane shoves a hand between them and works open his pants to get a hand around his own cock. Ryan wants to see; he wants to be the one touching Shane, but it’s too much. He can’t keep his thoughts straight long enough to take his hands off Shane’s ass. He leans forward and kisses Shane’s neck before biting down.

He doesn’t suck a lovebite into the skin, even though he knows it’ll drive Shane nuts (or at least, it used to). He kisses and bites and nips until Shane’s neck is a mess of red spots that’ll heal by morning. He kisses Shane’s adam’s apple and the hollow of his throat before Shane’s yanking him up by the hair.

Shane kisses him again and Ryan moans into it. It’s as good as it used to be, as good as Ryan remembers. Faintly, he wonders why he and Shane ever broke up, when they feel _this fucking good_ together.

Shane whines into the kiss and the slick sounds of him jerking off grow quicker. “M’close,” he mutters.

“C’mon, do it,” Ryan whispers right back, practically breathing the words into Shane’s mouth.

They kiss and Ryan bites and tugs at Shane’s bottom lip; Shane’s mouth drops open and he lets out a keening moan. He goes tense in Ryan’s lap and his breathing catches. Ryan leans back just enough to watch Shane’s face as he comes—a sight he’s sorely missed, if he’s being honest with himself. Shane’s eyes flutter and his bottom lip quivers; his tongue licks over his teeth and he barely breathes, barely lets out the softest sounds. As the last wave of orgasm crests Shane’s face pinches slightly and he lets out one long, shuddering gasp.

Ryan knows both their shirts probably have come on them. He doesn’t really care. He kisses Shane’s parted lips again and again until Shane kisses back.

“Ry,” Shane sighs, and Ryan’s heart clenches painfully in his chest.

Ryan leans back and finally lets his hands fall from Shane’s ass. He holds him loosely by the hips instead.

Shane stares at him, one hand still knotted in Ryan’s hair. He untangles his fingers and combs them through his hair instead before pulling away. Shane’s throat bobs as he swallows.

“Stay,” Ryan says, just as quick as he’d asked Shane to come home with him in the first place.

Shane doesn’t look surprised by the offer. He cups Ryan’s cheek, and says, “Okay.”


End file.
